Silver Lining
by Maywynn
Summary: John has troubles only Sherlock seems to be able to help with. Eventual slash  and fluff . Will do some requests/suggestions, pleae read Chapter 1 to find out.
1. Summary

**Author's Notes:**

**So, hi. This is my first Sherlock fanfic. I have been reading a lot of them for ages, and I have been kind of compiling a list of things that appear in multiple fanfics about Johnlock (I don't like the word itself, but it represents the pairing):**

**John and Sherlock sleeping together (not sex sleeping, snoring sleeping)  
><strong>**John having nightmares (and Sherlock comforting him)  
><strong>**John running his hands through Sherlock's hair (you get what I mean)  
><strong>**Sherlock cooking (?)  
><strong>**John/Sherlock falling asleep in Sherlock/John's arms  
><strong>**John being ill and Sherlock caring for him  
><strong>**Visa versa  
><strong>**Colds and flu (it may just be the season)  
><strong>**Sherlock making John tea (and just tea making in general)  
><strong>**Sherlock ruminating on his worthlessness and his sociopathic tendencies  
><strong>**John patching Sherlock up  
><strong>**Arguments  
><strong>**Guns  
><strong>**Entrails  
><strong>**Self harm – esp. Wrist slitting (I'm don't really want to touch on that, but I might a bit)  
><strong>**Bees (Sherlock in old age)  
><strong>**John and Sherlock getting dirty (not what you think I mean, I mean dirt like mud and related things)**

**That's about it, as far as I can remember. If people want to suggest more, then they can, and I will list them along with the person who suggested them here.**

**THIS CHAPTER IS BASICALLY JUST AUTHORS NOTES.**

**I called this fic Silver Lining, just because every cloud has a silver lining. At least, that's what the saying says. Also, cause of my aunt and uncles farm. :D I would live there if I could, just because of the cat Tiger, the dog Dot and Bill the First the dead possum (he's fertiliser now).**

**Sometimes it's hard to act all happy and smiley when you're all messed up inside. **

**TRUST ME – I KNOW. **

**This will be a full story, not drabbles, I promise.**

**P.S. For those of you who don't know, there is a tumblr going dedicated to the campaign called I Believe in Sherlock Holmes. It's awesome. Check it out someday. I did something for it! **

**ONWARDS TO THE FIRST CHAPTER **


	2. Tea Making

_John's upset about something, I'm not quite sure what (I couldn't think of anything good) . Silence affects people in different ways, and silences always make me feel guilty and awkward and bad. Meh. Enjoy. _

_Not too sure about the ending, though. Please R&R. Nattie._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Two - Tea Making<strong>

"Jesus!" John dropped onto his armchair. "That was fun."

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit."

"Shut up Sherlock. You _enjoyed_ it. _I _meanwhile did not."

"That much was clear from your facial expressions, your movements, your-"

"I said _Shut up_!" John's voice rose, and then dropped abruptly. "Jesus," he said again, and got up from his chair and looked out the window. "Jesus Christ, what a messed up world." He ran his hand through his hair, making it stand up, deliberately ignoring Sherlock who stood behind him.

"John, I-"

"Not right now, please." John's voice was harsh.

Sherlock carefully took off his coat and scarf, and draped them behind him on a chair, and went into the kitchen, leaving John alone.

John took deep breaths, trying to calm himself, and worst of all, trying not to cry. He swallowed hard, and stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets, where they clenched into fists, almost automatically. John focused on the outline of London against the rapidly darkening sky. He jumped slightly when Sherlock touched him lightly on the arm, holding out a cup of tea. He took it from Sherlock, trying not to look him in the eye.

John opened his mouth to say thanks, but then stopped himself. He was enjoying the silence somewhat. He looked Sherlock in the eye though, hoping Sherlock wouldn't notice how his eyes were watering slightly. Sherlock did of course, John noticed how his expression seemed to change a little, but he did nothing. Wrapping his hands around the warmth of the cup, John turned back to look out upon the city.

Sherlock stood beside him, drinking what smelt like coffee, also watching the city.

John always imagined that silences meant something. Awkwardness, sadness, or some big emotion. _What did this silence mean?_ He wondered, glancing at the calm on Sherlock's face, however, he realised it wasn't a bad emotion, this silence. It was understanding. He sipped his tea. It was sweet.


	3. Hyperventilation

_Okay, a symptom of hyperventilation is dizziness.  
>Triage is a whole nother kettle of fish. Basically, you prioritise people and their injuries. I was in Scouts a few days ago, doing First Aid, and one of my Leaders said, you never ever want to have to take triage. More about it next chapter, but it's not fun. Look it up on Wikipedia. I imagine, as a doctor, John has to do it a lot. At A&amp;E they do it, assess you, see if you're a priority or not, sprained wrist, not so much, accident with big knife, go right though. Get what I mean? Then, there is worst case scenarios where you have to look at people and think, I can't save you (i.e. deaddying) and I might save you. If you're one person, and someone needs CPR you shouldn't do really do. Once you start CPR you can't stop it. There maybe other people you can save, more than one. Not nice. There is your first aid lesson for the day. Not I am in no position to advise you anything. I'm just telling you random information (that one day, might just save someone's life). End Rant, Begin Angst._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three – Hyperventilation<br>**Sherlock could hear John tossing and turning, thrashing around in his bed. Sherlock knew that John had been heavily disturbed by what had happened – Sherlock checked his watch and raised an eyebrow – yesterday. Had giving him tea been the right thing to do? John had seemed calmer after that, but he had sat in his chair brooding for a long while afterwards, staring at the television with the volume on full. Sherlock had been worried about what the sound had been doing for the maggots he had in the microwave, but he hadn't objected. John needed peace and quiet.

Sherlock got up and crept to John's bedroom. He stood outside the door with his back against the wall, and listened.  
>"Tommy!" John said suddenly. "Tommy! Tommy! I'm sorry Tom, I really am. Tom!" His voice rose, until he was almost screaming the name. With a sudden gasp, John must have sat up, wide awake, and Sherlock ghosted back to the living room. He knew that John would come downstairs eventually, unable to bear the darkness and silence of his room.<p>

"I couldn't sleep." John shuffled into the room. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was sticking up in spikes. He threw himself on the sofa next to Sherlock.  
>"Evidently." Sherlock pressed his hands together. "Bad nightmare?"<br>John sat up. "How did you—. Never mind." He rubbed his face embarrassedly. "Pretty bad, I guess." He swallowed and glanced at Sherlock. "Did I disturb you?"  
>"No." Sherlock sat up and looked at John properly, noting one minor problem which could become worse. He ignored it for the time being. "Who's Tom?"<br>"Jesus." John's shoulders slumped. "He—", he looked away, staring vacantly out of the window, as though he didn't quite believe what he was seeing. "I could-could have—", he faltered, and stared at his feet. "Have you ever taken triage?"  
>"No, I know the basics of it though." Sherlock said, pieces beginning to slot into his mind.<br>"I messed up. I fucked it up, Sherlock. I—Tom, I could have saved him. I didn't assess him properly. I should have—" He fiddled, tugging his fingers, fidgeting nervously. "Sh—Should," he drew in a sharp breath, "Should have saved him." He choked. "Should have saved his life." He looked anywhere but Sherlock, his cheeks flushed.  
>"I'll get back to bed. Get some sleep." John stood up abruptly, and when he swayed slightly, Sherlock realised he had underestimated the <em>minor<em> problem. Grabbing John's shoulders, he forced John downwards until he was sitting on the sofa, and knelt down in front of him. "You're hyperventilating John." He said sharply.  
>"Sherlock, I—"<br>Sherlock glared at him. "Steady breathing, John. In and out."


	4. Taking Triage

_Lots of swearing, and also, to find out about triage go back a chapter, and read my notes about it, or wiki it. It's kind of the main focus here. With thanks to Laura Scofield, who is the only one to have reviewed so far! C'mon peeps. Reviews make people (like me) happy. I'm looking at you Jenny. You promised. You promised Arthur Weasly geocaching too, but that is a more long term commitment. _

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four – Taking Triage<strong>

Sherlock knelt on the floor in front of John, not moving, watching him, until he was sure that John was breathing steadily and evenly. He got up and sat beside him, his ankles and feet complaining. John tried to control his breathing, but Sherlock knew that the panic hadn't left him, yet.  
>"You don't want to, you know." John said abruptly.<br>"Don't want to what?" Sherlock asked, but he had the feeling that he already knew.  
>"Take triage. It's bloody awful." He was gasping for breath again, sounding like he was going to cry. "Looking at people, friends, thinking; <em>you're gonna die, can't save you, you might die, I might be able to save you<em>. I'm messed up."  
>"These are perfectly normal psychological reactions to—"<br>"I don't care!" John yelled, voice almost breaking with pain, exhaustion, frustration. "I don't bloody care if it's normal or not! You and the fucking therapist! It may be normal, but-but—", he was crying now, tears pouring down his face. "But I'm just alone Sherlock. All fucking alone, and nobody really knows," he sinks back into the sofa, hugging his knees, curled up in a ball, shaking. All his anger seemed to have left him and he is sad. So very, very sad. "I'm all alone Sherlock." He whispered. He rested his head on his knees, tears running down his cheeks.

He looks so vulnerable that Sherlock wanted to reach out, embrace him and hold him tightly. All the emotions he had been holding inside him threatened to overwhelm him, and he swallowed. _I keep all my emotions inside me, so I don't get other people hurt by my actions._ Slowly, very slowly, he reached out, and pulled John towards him carefully. John let go of his knees, and leant towards Sherlock, his body tense. Sherlock pulled John so his head was resting on Sherlock's chest, wrapping his arms around John, holding him tightly. He can feel John's tense muscles against his arms and chest, and held him, rocking him gently. He hugged him, listening to John's gasping breath.  
>"Breathe John." He said gently. "Breathe. I'm right here, you're not alone." John relaxed slightly in Sherlock's arms, and so Sherlock holds him, John's head on his chest, until his breathing is even and he is calm. Sherlock helps John to sit up, and watches him.<p> 


End file.
